Raene and the Three Bears (The Alder Tales Book 2)

by RS McCoy

  Hale put a hand to his chest as he laughed at her shock. Raene, too, couldn’t help but laugh, but she felt better when he said, “We have a responsibility to set the example for the clan. But don’t worry. We have a few years yet.”

  Raene tilted her head so it rested on his shoulder, though he was so low the angle was a bit awkward. In the last few days, she’d come to enjoy her time with Hale. After she’d told him about the kiss with Parson—the first kiss—it was easier to be open with him, to listen to his stories of the sacred Mother, and ask him about the others in the clan. He kissed her in that slow, careful way, like she was something precious. If only her totem would quiet, Raene would have a happy life with him.

  And now Parson wanted to change it. She’d been such a fool to listen.

  So Raene sat with her head on Hale’s shoulder and laughed with him over who would have children in the next years. Gemini’s sister, a young woman named Nyla, was well within age and married, though she hadn’t had any children, yet. Hale mentioned she might not be able to, as sometimes the Mother doesn’t share that gift with all women, but as they’d only been married a few years, no one was too worried.

  Raene pushed back the urge, refusing to let it hold sway over her. She laughed and talked and filled her mouth with the flavors of amberwine. She focused on the soothing voice of her future husband and tried to embrace her new life.

  The Dancer

  “ELBOW UP. Wrist in. Eyes forward.” Blossom felt the snap of leather on her hip, stinging even through the luxurious Aero suit. If the cloak didn’t restrict her motion so much, she’d have been tempted to wear it for its cushioning effect.

  Blossom kept her face perfectly calm, refusing to acknowledge the pain. It was easier now to keep her mask in place, to keep her emotions buried inside where no one could use them against her. In that regard, Eton was the best of teachers.

  Eager to minimize the lashes, Blossom tightened her position. And then, when she was sure her stance was as perfect as possible, she loosed the arrow.

  It struck the third ring.

  A vicious snap sounded a half-second before the pain in her hip. Blossom put a hand over the spot and breathed the pain out her nose, intent on remaining silent. She wouldn’t give the old witch the satisfaction.

  Eton was quick to step in. “That’s enough for today.”

  Rissa Drim, Blossom’s trainer, glared like a snake. She wasn’t used to being undermined. Here, in the archery-competition ring, she was queen.

  But even Rissa had to defer to the sheer authority of Blossom’s position.

  Grumbling her dissatisfaction under her breath, Rissa made a lobster look friendly. But she was the best trainer in Aerona, and therefore, the only one worthy to train Blossom.

  Despite Blossom’s previous experience with a bow, and the fact that Parson—the best archer in the Bear Clan—taught her to shoot, she wasn’t as good as Rissa expected.

  She’d have a good bruise on her hip to prove it.

  “I can keep going,” Blossom argued. Her hip already ached, but she was finally getting the hang of the compound bow. She got most arrows to hit the target, though of course nowhere near the center.

  As she nocked the next arrow and raised the bow to shoulder height, she heard the dreaded words.

  “You have a new assignment.”

  When she turned, she saw the black piercings had been exchanged for his normally silver ones.

  A sign of bad things to come.

  Blossom lowered the bow to her hip. Eton’s face was calm as usual, a mask she now knew well. Later, when they were alone, maybe in the cave again, she would ask him what he really thought. For now, she left him to his façade.

  She handed the compound bow to Rissa and stripped off the quiver. With a low nod of respect, she thanked her trainer and walked out the door with Eton.

  Neither spoke until they were in the elevator.

  “You don’t have to let her do that, you know. You’re a Vice Syndicate. You don’t have to go there at all.” Eton enjoyed reminding her of the futility of her compound bow training. She would never be allowed to enter a competition.

  But what was she supposed to do? Sit in her room for days on end waiting for yet more unsavory tasks from the Syndicate? Stare at the files of Aero politicians she’d already learned? Think about the man in Pyrona who wanted nothing to do with her? Count the black coins in her mounting pile of prospective suitors?

  No thanks.

  Today, she would have to do her job. “What does she want me to do?”

  Handing over her panel, Eton showed her the official file as he gave her the overview. “You’ve been assigned an execution. A child abuser named Orten Lillah.”

  Blossom lifted her eyes to his to measure his words. Surely he wasn’t serious. Blossom wasn’t an executioner any more than she was a Hydra farmer. “Don’t they have someone to handle things like this?”

  “Yes, but the point is to test you, if you’ll remember.” Eton maintained his false calm, though Blossom knew this assignment burned him up inside. The more stoic his expression, the more severe the emotion he was hiding.

  Blossom skimmed the document on her panel. Every word was true.

  She was going to have to kill someone today.

  Not through negligence let someone die, but actively kill them.

  She didn’t even know where to start.

  “We’re going to the tower to get the blade. Then, I’ll take you to the cell where he’s being held. You can do it there.” Eton’s eyes were heavy with regret as he spelled out her task.

  “He’s a child abuser?” Blossom asked, looking through the file. Disgust rumbled low in her gut. She hated to even contemplate such a thing. “Did he really do it? Or is this more rumor?”

  “He really did it. There’s a clip from the security cameras attached to the file. I’d recommend you don’t watch it.” The curl of Eton’s lip was all she needed to see.

  Then the elevator slowed to a stop. Blossom breathed easier for a moment when she realized they wouldn’t have to see the top of the tower—or the Syndicate’s office—today. She was at least granted that one small reprieve. Eton escorted her to the tenth level, still well within the Earth, where Aero’s ceremonial items were housed. There, Blossom signed for a blade.

  On the Robin, Blossom turned it over in her hands. It had a hilt that looked to be made of ice, and was just as cold to the touch. Sapphires, opals, and pearls were inlayed into the white metal. The blade was as long as her forearm and sadly not all that sharp. It would be hard to kill with a dull blade.

  “Just get in and out. Don’t think about it.”

  Blossom listened the quiet rattle of the Robin along the tracks. “Have you done it before?”

  Eton’s silence was answer enough.

  Sabotaging Blossoms’ totem wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever done. Still, she couldn’t help but to continue to hate him for it.

  Then again, who better to help her kill someone than the worst person she knew? Well, second worst.

  Her stomach churned by the time they arrived, though she didn’t know if it was from the Robin or her upcoming task. Both made her want to retch. With blade in hand, Blossom followed Eton down a long corridor, through a secure door, and down another hall until they reached the holding cell of Orten Lillah.

  Eton’s handprint was all that was needed to enter.

  Inside, Blossom found an Aero man tied to a vertical beam. His platinum hair curtained his face, slicked with grease and caked with what she hoped was mud. A white jacket—or rather its tattered remnants—hung from his shoulders, open to reveal a patchwork of bruises and crusted-over injuries.

  At the sound of the opening door, he lifted his head. Both of his eyes were swollen, one of them sealed shut. Blossom hated the sight of him, hated to think of what he’d already been through.

  She looked back at Eton. He only nodded.

  Blossom turned the dagger’s hilt in her hand several times. “Are
you Orten Lillah?”

  “I am he,” the man replied, his voice as craggy as a mountain.

  “You are accused of child abuse and sentenced to be executed.” Blossom tried to keep her voice as formal and level as possible. She wasn’t killing him. Syndicate Mercer was killing him. She was as powerless as the dull ceremonial blade in her hand.

  “I did not do it. He was my son. I could never…” Orten lowered his head once more and began to weep. His shoulders shook and mucus dripped to the floor. He had no shame. Only fear of death.

  Blossom winced at the display. He looked so pathetic, so weak. She couldn’t kill a man tied to a beam any more than she could kill an animal tied to a tree.

  But neither could she risk incurring the Syndicate’s wrath.

  Orten would die. There was nothing Blossom could do to stop it.

  “Blossom?” Eton coaxed from his usual haunt by the door.

  Blossom pulled her panel from the pocket of her cloak and scrolled to find the video file. When she tapped it, a corridor appeared on the screen. The camera looked to have been installed somewhere in the ceiling. The floor was a grid of alabaster tiles, and standing on them, a man and a boy. Both were Aero with the ultra-white hair and sleek suit. From above, it was impossible to tell who they were.

  It could have been anyone.

  “I don’t think you should watch it.” Eton pushed off the wall and moved to intervene, but Blossom put up a hand to stop him.

  She would determine if there was evidence against this man or not. Blossom wouldn’t end another innocent life.

  As the video played on, she watched the man and boy stop to talk to another Aero man. The two men engaged in conversation while the boy stood idle at their sides. Without sound, it was impossible to know what they discussed, but as soon as they parted ways, the Aero man leaned over and punched the boy square in the face.

  Blossom stared in horror as blood splattered the alabaster tile.

  The man took a moment to adjust his hair where it had come out of place before he planted his foot on the boy’s back and thrust him to the floor. He kicked the child until he no longer moved.

  Wider and wider, the crimson pool spread, such a glaring color in the all-white corridor. The boy’s small frame lay across it, his arms tucked against his sides, as if he’d merely grown tired and fallen asleep.

  Even from a camera planted in the ceiling, Blossom knew the boy was dead.

  This wasn’t child abuse. It was murder.

  Despite Eton’s warnings, despite how she knew it would be held against her, Blossom allowed a tear to slip down her cheek.

  But as the boy’s lifeless body lay prostrate across the lavish tile, Blossom could see no more of the man than the top of his too-blond hair. It could have been any Aero. Maybe trueborn Aeros could tell the difference—could interpret the skull patterns shaved into his head—but to Blossom, he was just one more.

  Until he turned his eyes to the ceiling. Frantic, he searched for the camera he knew to be there, and when he found it, he smashed it with his fist. For a full second before the video went black, Blossom saw clearly the face of Orten Lillah.

  She slipped the panel back into her pocket.

  Then, she took a single step forward and extended the dull ceremonial blade. She had to strike hard to penetrate his flesh, but she managed to open his belly from hip to hip.

  A move she’d executed dozens of times cleaning a kill for the clan.

  This time, it was worse than expected, but Blossom couldn’t muster an iota of regret. Her extra force had sliced the blade through the muscle layer covering the abdominal cavity. Orten Lillah’s organs spilled from the opening, and fresh, hot blood spilled onto the already-soiled floor of his cell.

  He stopped crying long enough to scream. His fallen intestines steamed in the Aerona chill. He wriggled his shackled hands, desperate to clutch at his slit belly.

  No one helped him.

  Blossom stepped forward and wiped the blade on the shoulder of his shirt, making sure it was clean before she headed out the door.

  She didn’t look back.

  Eton’s footsteps followed her to the Robin, though he never said a word. With the frigidity of a block of ice, Blossom returned the dagger to the keeper of ceremonial items.

  Ten minutes later, Blossom and Eton stood in silence as the elevator descended toward the caves. Even once the doors were open and they plunged forward into the darkness, they maintained their practiced silence.

  Only when the glow of the subterranean lake appeared did Blossom let herself breathe again. She could finally shed the mask. Tears flowed freely as she stripped away her opalescent cloak, followed quickly by her suit jacket, vest, and every other Aero item she could remove.

  Eton didn’t stop her from diving into the lake in nothing but her silk underthings. The water was as warm and refreshing as before, but it couldn’t wash the blood from the alabaster tile. It couldn’t dispel the image of boy dying at the hand of his father.

  By the time she surfaced, Blossom had digressed into full sobs. She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs heaved, and her shoulders shook. It was all she could do to make it back to the ledge and pull herself out of the water.

  Eton already sat with his pants rolled up and his calves submerged. No sooner was Blossom seated on the ledge than he put an arm across her shoulder and tugged her against his side. “I’m sorry. Hey, I’m sorry. There was nothing you could do. It’s never easy to be the one to end a life.”

  Blossom pulled away. “You think I’m crying for Orten Lillah?” she spat through her tears. “He deserved worse.” Had she not been bound by Aero protocol, Blossom could have devised far more judicious punishments for the man.

  With a shudder, Blossom realized she was just like them. In her blood, she was Aero.

  Eton pulled her to his side again, ignoring the angry tears that continued to fall. “I told you not to watch it. Why can’t you listen? You’re so stupid. Just listen for once. I’m trying to help you.”

  “Because you feel guilty.” Blossom wiped at her ruined face as she threw her barb. Eton was responsible for her position in Aero. Anything he did to help her now was fueled by the guilt of what he’d already done.

  “Then you should trust me more than anyone. I’m the only person in Aerona who has a reason to help you.” Eton squeezed her extra hard, and she knew, as much as she hated what he’d done to her life, he was trying to amend it now.

  “Do you think it took him long to die?” She despised that her voice was a pathetic croak after so much crying, but she wanted the answer.

  “A few minutes at least. Is that what you wanted?”

  “That’s what he deserved. I can’t—I don’t know how someone could do that.” Blossom tilted her head against Eton’s shoulder and sighed as her sadness hardened into something else. She wanted to go on pretending people like Orten Lillah didn’t exist. But she’d seen the proof. Every day she spent in Aerona stripped away the false beauty of the world and exposed the ugly truth beneath. Blossom didn’t know if she wanted to see anything else.

  “I don’t know how you could do that to him. After the Hammonds—I didn’t think you had it in you. Especially for the first—”

  “He wasn’t the first.” When Eton’s face dissolved into confusion, Blossom resigned herself to tell the story. “The second night in Pyrona, I ran away. I was picked up by an agent for a criminal ring. They cornered me in a warehouse. I killed one and wounded another before—” Blossom was surprised how quickly her voice caught. She swallowed and forced herself to finish. “Kaide killed the other two and carried me home.”

  “So you’ve killed three people?” Eton asked when fell silent.

  “You sound impressed.” Blossom allowed herself a small smile. It wasn’t often she had the chance to prove him wrong.

  “I am. Tremendously. It’s a little scary, actually.”

  Blossom gazed across the subterranean lake. She was scary? It made sense when she thought a
bout it. A calloused killer ending a life, intentionally leaving her victim to suffer a slow death.

  “What I mean, is that you’re learning. You’re in control. You can lie when you need to and smile when you hate someone. You’re just as ruthless as the Syndicate, but you know when to use it. You could really change things here if you got yourself in the right position.”

  Blossom shook her head. “I don’t want to be like her.”

  “You’re not. That’s what I’m saying. You have all the skills but you’re not a monster. My father was like that.”

  “And look how he ended up.” Blossom felt the shame creep over her. It was an awful thing to say, but nonetheless true.

  “You’re right. It’s easier to bend to their will and become what they want. My father paid that price, but he wasn’t half as good as you.” Eton sighed when he recognized her resolve. “I know you don’t want to trust me, but I really am here to help you. That’s my job. Mercer made sure I would stand by your side and watch you implode. But she doesn’t know what you can do. She’s planning on your hatred, and every time you ignore me, it plays into her strategy.”

  Blossom pushed off the ledge and slipped back into the water. She didn’t want to discuss her role in Mercer’s hideous plans, whatever they were. She only wanted to be left alone. She wanted to rip the stupid metal bracelet off her wrist and fly away, back to Pyrona and Kaide. Mercer had already stolen weeks of her life away from him. How much more would she have to give up?

  Lying on her back, Blossom let the water support her as she meandered across the surface of the lake. For a long while, she let the water carry her, until Eton’s voice echoed across the cavern. Blossom sighed and swam back toward him. “Why don’t you ever get in the water?” she asked when she was near enough.

  “I am in the water.” Eton pointed to his legs. “Cranes aren’t really swimming birds.”

  Blossom propelled herself onto the ledge with such force, a considerable puddle formed. Eton jumped to his feet to keep from getting his pants wet. “You’ve been reinstated as Vice Syndicate.”